


Haunt Your Heart

by meggiewrites



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Bene Isn't Afraid, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Ghost Mats, M/M, Mats Isn't Scary, Not a Sad Fic, Realtor Benni, merry christmas y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 07:51:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17137889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggiewrites/pseuds/meggiewrites
Summary: Mats is bored. Of course, that has been his usual state ever since. Well, ever since he managed to break his neck falling down the stairs while he’d been checking his phone during a house party he’d been attending.Or, Mats is a ghost. Benedikt is the realtor trying to sell the house he's haunting.





	Haunt Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [juliansweigl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliansweigl/gifts), [vulcanistics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcanistics/gifts).



> Another of those on my list that have been a WIP forever! If one of my friends hadn't asked me about it, I probably would never have finished it. So as a thank you, I'm gifting it to you, M. as well as to Mavis; both of you have become good friends this year (be it recently or not-so-recently) and I adore both of you as writers and as people! Merry Christmas!!
> 
> Inspired by this [tumblr post](http://manuelmueller.tumblr.com/post/153751546615/thecw4kids-ghost-in-the-house-get-out-i-will). Unbeta'd. Enjoy!!

Mats is bored.

Of course, that has been his usual state ever since. Well, ever since he managed to break his neck falling down the stairs while he’d been checking his phone during a house party he’d been attending.

Pretty pitiful way to die, he knows that, but that’s just the way things are, and he now has to live with it. Or rather, not-live with it, since he was pretty dead to begin with. Anyway, now he’s stuck in a house that is about as exciting as a sleepy village on Sunday afternoons.

The people who had hosted the party moved out shortly after the incident. Understandably, since Mats is sure no one wants to live in a house that someone they’d invited died in. Soon, an old, especially tiny old lady moved in. She had always been delightfully easy to scare, even if she always blamed it on her clumsiness when things fell down around her.

She didn’t believed in ghosts – but then again neither had Mats; at least before he became one himself – and Mats was been rather fond of her. One time, he scared away a guy who’d harassed her again and again, trying to join her some obscure organisation or another, so Mats had gotten into his car, started it up and drove it a bit up the street and right into a tree. Since he was tied to the house, he couldn’t be too far away from it, but even the few meters the car had driven without an apparent driver had been enough to spook the guy enough so that he never came back.

But then, after about two years, one day, the old lady didn’t return from Sunday brunch with her friends, and the following week, some men came to bring out some her furniture and a few of her other things.

Sometimes, Mats wonders if she is like him now, stuck in between this world or another, if another even exists. He’s never met or seen another ghost - on good days he wonders if he would meet in the afterlife, but most days, he has resigned himself to the fact that he is going to be alone forever.

No one moved in after her, and for almost a year, the only company he got were some of the neighbourhood kids (who came back again and again no matter how terrified they were my Mats’ hauntings – they seemed to enjoy the spookiness, even, so Mats took his job very seriously around them, though always making sure they stayed safe in the process) and a stray cat, who still comes to visit him every couple days and seems to somehow sense his presence.

Sometimes he thinks it might even be able to see him. It often rubs against his invisible legs, sometimes meows at him until he leans down to. He isn’t really able to pet it, isn’t really able to feel the tabby coat underneath his fingers, but it seems to enjoy the attention nevertheless, purring softly.

All in all, life as a ghost is pretty boring. After another half a year, Mats has read every book that is still left in the shelves that the moving men had left behind, and you can only watch the people on the street for so long until you are bored to death. (The joke loses its funniness after a couple months, it really does.)

It’s on a sunny day in June when everything changes. Mats has been lounging in the big tree on the sidewalk that stands right in front of the house, enjoying the way the shadows make him feel calmer, more centered. It’s the closest he can come to actual sleep, and finding rest is difficult when it was this hot outside.

The car that pulls up in front of the house has been here before, Mats recognizes the logo on it. A couple times, a fat, bald man has gotten out, taken a few looks at the house, some photographs, a couple notes. He’s a realtor, Mats is sure, but up until now, he hasn’t shown any sign that he actually wants to sell the house.

This time though, he is joined by a young couple. The man looks quite serious and business-y, his wife very nervous, uptight.

“It’s this one here,” the bald man says, pointing at Mats’ house. “Not too shabby, is it? It hasn’t been renovated yet, but the renovation will be included in the listing price.”

The woman bites her lips, looking doubtful.

“Shall we go inside?” The realtor seems overly cheery, but Mats can see he was nervous as well. Curiously, he floats down from the tree, following his three guests inside.

The house hasn’t been cleaned in a while. Only once, a couple months back, did a cleaning troupe come by, probably readying the house to be viewed by potential buyers.

Already after five minutes, Mats determines that he doesn’t like the potential buyers one bit. The wife seems prissy, finding something to moan at in every single corner of the house, turning up her nose at the ‘low standards of the previous owners.’ Her husband doesn’t say a single word, and instead only checks his phone every couple minutes, as if he is expecting an important call.

“Why hasn’t it been sold earlier?” he asks when he finally lifts his head.

“Ah.” The realtor rubs his nose. “Just the old stories ...” The couple looks at him questioningly. “There’s rumors that it’s haunted. Children’s tales, really.”

Disappointingly, he doesn’t add that someone died here, cause that would have certainly been enough to turn the wife away - already, she looks awfully pale around her nose.

“Christian,” she says to her husband and gnaws at her painted bottom lip, “I don’t think is this is the right house for us.”

Her husband doesn’t look convinced. He glances up the stairs where Mats is standing, but as everyone else, he looks right through him. He really looks distinctly unpleasant-

Mats scoffs, turns and pushes the little side table to his right down the stairs.

The woman’s high-pitched scream is almost a bit funny.

 

After that, no one comes to the house for a couple weeks – not even the bald man. Mats is pretty sure he managed to scare him shitless, too, that he didn’t actually believe the rumors before, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

He’s almost surprised when he turns up again, this time followed by a younger, taller, decidedly more handsome man. Mats’ is standing upstairs, staring out of the open window and stomach takes an excited leap when he realizes that this might be the person who’s gonna live in his house, who will keep him company.

But already when the two make it up the front steps, Mats realizes that the fat realtor doesn’t treat this guy like a customer.

“Here it is, the cursed thing. Guess it’s your problem now, Höwedes.”

His smirk as a mean quality to it, and Mats’ heart stings a bit as he realizes that it’s clearly meant like it too. Luckily, the younger man (he’s blond, with freckles depicting galaxies all over his cheeks and eyes as deep as a spring forest) doesn’t seem all too concerned. His smile is wistful as he accepts the keys and an overstuffed binder from his older colleague.

“I really don’t know what your problem is, Rudi. It looks lovely to me – if I could afford this kind of place I’d count myself lucky.”

The older man only lets out a dry cackle as he turns around, making the way back to his car.

The younger realtor lets out a deep breath as the car drives away, as if Mats is not the only one to have the bald man’s greasy presence gone. He looks almost fond as he unlocks the door, stepping inside. For a second, Mats considers floating through the wall and following him downstairs, but instead, he makes his way to the stairs.

Ghosts don’t exactly walk like normal people do. They can float and get up and down sizable heights, but Mats still moves his legs and feet as he walks across the hallway. He isn’t really sure if it’s only out of habit.

The realtor has just disappeared into the kitchen as Mats arrives downstairs. He’s left his binder on the stairs, and Mats ghosts his finger over the smooth surface curiously as he hears something jangling behind his back. The realtor – Höwedes, Mats remembers. He assumes it’s his last name – stares at him with wide eyes. He’s dropped his keys on the floor, his hand still raised stiffly in the air, as if his whole arm had frozen right where it was.

He’s gaping, and out of habit, Mats turns around to find whatever he’s staring at, but there is nothing but the whitewashed wall. It only slowly registers that he must be staring at  _ him _ .

“You … you’re real!” The realtor stammers.

Mats, for the first time in his dead  _ and _ undead life, is rendered completely speechless. Actually, he isn’t even fully sure he can actually talk in this form – sure, the cat seems to hear something when he whispers compliments into its fur, but it’s a cat; they’re pretty weird creatures anyway. And to himself, everything has sounded blurred, a bit unclear, ever since he died.

“Yeah?” he says, and his voice sounds rough, just like he imagined a voice would sound after you haven’t used it for several years.

He’s actually surprised when the realtor gapes at him some more and then shoves out his hand, as if to grab Mats by his wrinkled, immaterial sweater. He looks almost a bit spooked when his hand just grabs onto nothing. He frowns, and Mats chuckles. Wow, this guy is even cuter than he first thought.

“I’m a ghost, you know. I’m not actually tangible.”

The man looks at him. Then he giggles. It sounds a bit hysterical, but also genuinely amused.

“What?” Mats asks defensively and yup, now the guy is actually grinning.

“You know, when Rudolf said there was a ghost here, I expected some kind of mean poltergeist. Probably ugly, if it even looked like anything.”

“And?” Mats crosses his arm in front of his chest. He might be pouting. It bothers him that this guy doesn’t seem to be the least bit afraid of him.

“Your hair looks like you just got out of bed, you’ve got a coffee stain on your sweatshirt and you aren’t wearing shoes. You might be the least threatening ghost I’ve ever seen.”

“Have you seen many, then?” It would certainly explain a lot.

The guy smiles tightly. “No. Just you.”

 

His name is Benedikt, Mats finds out over the next two hours. The realtor made himself some tea on the stove that hasn’t been used forever – he used one of the old pots to heat up the water, but pulled the teabag out of his one of the pockets of his leather jacket.

He seems a bit shaken after all, his legs trembling as he sits down at the kitchen table. Sure, Mats gets him – he think he would have reacted the same, had he been in the same situation. (Actually, he might have run away screaming, no matter how handsome his ghost was, but he wouldn’t admit that if you tried to torture it out of him.)

Mats really craves a cup of coffee, but one of the disadvantages of being dead is that he really can’t consume solids – or liquids – anymore.

Benedikt gives him a slanted look.

“So um, how did you end up – haunting? – this house?”

Mats fiddles with a loose thread on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “I,” he hesitates, “might have died here? It’s been roughly three and a half years now, I believe.”

Benedikt almost chokes on his tea. Mats really would pat him on his back, but he knows that his hand would pass right through him so he doesn’t bother. It takes a few minutes for the young realtor to calm his dry cough, and when he finally sits up straight again, he looks more than slightly incredulous.

“Someone died in here? Why on earth is this mentioned nowhere in my files?”

“Well, maybe because it isn’t exactly the best selling strategy?”

Benedikt taxes him with a look. Mats grins. “You don’t say. But still, I’m pretty sure we should be informed of this.”

“To be fair, I’m pretty sure Baldy knew.”

The snort that escapes the realtor’s throat is terribly endearing, especially as he tries to cover it up but his scrunched up eyes give him away. Then he leans back, drumming on his fingers on the table.

“Yeah, that’d be exactly to Rudi’s taste, if I’m being honest. He’s wanted me out of the firm for quite a while now. And since I haven’t booked a sale in a while …” He pulls a face.

Mats knows all too well what he’s talking about. He worked at a small newspaper before he died, and god, had he loathed his boss. Knowing that guy, he’d probably been happy when Mats broke his neck and he got to hire someone new, someone with more talent and less fond of unnecessary ‘filler’ words.

He hums, and Benedikt shoots him a quick smile. He looks so nice when he smiles, Mats thinks, and he really wishes he could reach out and trail his fingers down his cheek – although, he admits, that would probably be slightly creepy. After all, this might look like a nice date set-up, but the only reason their sitting in Frau Meier’s kitchen (may she rest in peace) is because Mats unwillingly scared the living shit out of Benedikt.

Speaking of, his mind is still racing when he thinks of the fact that Benedikt is able to  _ see _ him. The realtor even pulled out his phone and snapped a quick photo of Mats – he’d decidedly been more surprised then Mats when it showed nothing but the bare wall.

Apart from his tabby cat, no one has seemed to actually sense Mats’ presence ever since he died. Sure, the kids always ran away screaming when he dropped something upstairs or made one of them trip in the hallway, but they didn’t seem to notice it when he ruffled their hair, messed with their clothes or even if he walked right through them. Same with Frau Meier herself, as well as Benedikt’s douchebag coworker or the couple he’d brought along – none of them have seemed to notice that he was there.

And suddenly, there’s this guy. Here is Benedikt, tracing every single one of Mats’ features with his eyes, as if he fears that he’s imagining it all.

As if on clue, Benedikt groans. “God, I can’t believe I’m having a conversation with a  _ ghost _ in the kitchen of the house I’m supposed to sell. Am I going crazy?”

It’s a genuine question, and Mats fells the corners of his mouth quirk upwards. “I should hope not. You’re the first real company I’ve had in years.”

Something in his stomach tugs when Benedikt returns his smile.

 

Benedikt comes back a few days later, this time dressed in nice jeans, a shirt and a suit jacket. He’s leading another couple into the house; a bit older than the last potential buyers, more serious-looking. Not as stuck-up but not not exactly pleasant-looking either. Benedikt offers Mats a small nod and a smile, and Mats feels stupid as he waves back, but the butterflies in his stomach start to stir anyway.

It’s been a week since he first met the blond man, and he hasn’t stopped thinking about him ever since.

For the first time, the fact that he doesn’t sleep has started to honestly bother him – sure, he’s spent many nights pondering how his family might feel about him passing away, if his mum is fine, his little brother … but for the first time since his death he’s truly giddy about something. 

And now, as the subject of his sleepless nights is right in front of him again, Mats can’t help but feel that Benedikt must pick up on how strange he’s acting.

Then again, he’s a ghost. Benedikt probably thinks everything about him is strange.

The couple is somewhat agreeable. At one point, Mats is tempted to slam a door right in front of their faces, but Benedikt sends him a warning glare and he pulls back his hand, shoving it in his pocket with a pout.

In the end, they inform Benedikt that they aren’t interested after all, and Benedikt closes the door behind himself with a deep sigh before turning to Mats with a tight smile.

“Well, I guess I should have expected that. They seemed doubtful from the start.” He nods towards the kitchen. “Tea?”

They talk about everything and nothing that day. Benedikt seems to have gotten over the fact that he’s met and had a conversation with a ghost – ”call me Bene, or Benni,” was the first thing he’d said when Mats had addressed him by his full name – and doesn’t seem to have any qualms moaning to him about how shitty his job is as if they were actually friends.

Mats feels pretty unexciting next to him, as the only thing he can talk about is how he noticed how Frau Kleinhans from the other side of the street kicked out her husband the other day; but at least it manages to make Benedikt chuckle. Out of habit, he’s taken out a cup for Mats too, and then shuffled awkwardly as he realized that while Mats could hold onto it surprisingly well, he wouldn’t be able to drink.

“I don’t know exactly how it works,” Mats shrugged, “except that I seem to be able to touch objects when I want to, but people and other living beings seem to be out of reach.” He hates himself for how wistful he sounds over the last part – but even if he’s always been someone who expressed his feelings mostly in a verbal way, he misses hugs, he misses hanging out with his friends. Misses the fact that he won’t ever be able to have someone by his side again, someone tangible, real.

Bene looked quite apologetic, and Mats was sure he could pick up on how touchy he is with the subject, as he didn’t pick it up again. He stayed for three hours, until it was already getting dark outside and Mats felt warmer than he’d felt ever since he last was alive. Bene is quite funny, actually, and he finds himself laughing loudly at his dry humor, really glad that no one is able to see them, as they’d surely think Benedikt was crazy, talking to himself really animatedly.

Mats finds himself wanting to lean forward and wrap him in a hug as they part, and then clears his throat and awkwardly lowers his arms as he realizes he can’t. They’re pale, as if he’s been washed with too much bleach, and he can just barely make out the tiled through his sleeve.

In the end, Bene gives him a wave that Mats awkwardly returns. And he isn’t sure if he’s imagining it, but the realtor’s smile seems awfully fond as he turns around.

 

And that’s how things go the next couple weeks – every few days, Bene brings new potential buyers to look at the house, and at first they all seem pretty uninterested. Every time that Bene bids them goodbye, he returns to have tea with Mats. As the days get longer, they migrate from the kitchen to the backyard garden. Luckily, the hedges surrounding the property are high enough that no one can see them, so if anyone overheard them, they’d probably just assume Bene was on the phone.

After three weeks, Mats would truly call them friends. Bene seems to enjoy their talks just as much as him, he always laughs at Mats’ jokes and rewards him with fond grins. He shakes his head at Mats’ haunting antics – by now he’s branched out to the neighbouring houses that he just barely manages to reach, as Bene would likely kill him again if he tried to scare away any of his customers and howls with laughter when he found out how exactly it was that Mats died.

He wipes his tears out of his eyes as Mats pouts at him, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Hey, it was tragic, okay? Mario and Marco had to move out one week later ‘cause they couldn’t deal with the guilt.”

Bene only grins. “I’m sure. But honestly, while looking on your phone? Wow Mats, that’s actually a bit pathetic.”

The lawn is speckled with tiny daisies, and he looks beautiful surrounded by sunlight, so Mats doesn’t really find it in him to be actually angry at him. Still, he doesn’t much appreciate being laughed at, so he leans over to poke Bene in his side with one finger. Of course, the finger drives right through his t-shirt, as if he was made out of nothing but air.

Mats sighs, slightly frustrated, and Bene offers him an understanding smile.

It’s stupid how beautiful it makes him look. And then, a sunray hits his face, and Mats can’t deny what he’s known for a while any longer. He’s got a crush on Benedikt Höwedes, even if that might possibly be the stupidest idea he ever had – as he couldn’t even touch him if he wanted to.

 

The next day, Bene brings in a middle aged woman with a quirky hairdo and a green knitted sweater who actually looks pretty interested in the house. She seems agreeable enough, and Mats curiously follows them around. At first, he gets excited about the fact that they might have someone he doesn’t mind living alongside with – even Bene seems happy, the relief apparent on his face as he shows her around – but then, the realization hits him.

If Benedikt sells the house, Mats won’t be able to see him again.

Sure, he would come by a few more times to seal the deal, but after that, it would be nothing short but weird if your realtor continued to hang around your house. And suddenly, it’s clear as day to Mats what he needs to do. With a determined flick of his wrist, he pushes over one of the kitchen chairs as he reaches over to rattle at the blinds.

The woman shrieks and drops her backpack onto the wooden floors. Bene gapes at Mats as if he’s truly seeing him for the first time.

When he asks him about the incident after guiding the thoroughly disturbed woman outside, Mats of course spouts on about ghostly instincts or something like that like the coward he is. By the raise of his eyebrows, he can fully well tell that Bene doesn’t believe him even for a second, but he lets it go either way.

Not so much when Mats continues to pull stunts like that the next five times he brings people to the property.

Often regretfully, Mats pushes over furniture as soon as they enter the door, slams doors shut as they’re standing right in front of them. One time, he even makes a mousy-looking woman and her stocky husband trip over an invisible line; a few days later he shatters a window upstairs when three brutish-looking bachelors didn’t seem spooked enough by a vase falling down from a stand.

Most of the people seem nice enough, but it isn’t personal. Mats can’t let go of Bene.

He doesn’t even want to imagine how lonely he will feel when he’s gone, how miserable. And it’s enough to ignore every angry glare, every huff, his temper flaring up in his eyes after the man he loves closes the door behind yet another set of potential buyers that fled after getting a full taste of Mats’ hauntings.

He’s tempted to merge back into the wall and hide out in the neighbour’s attic when Bene turns around to face him again, his nostrils flaring, a storm raging behind his eyes.

“What exactly is your problem?!” he yells, and Mats can’t help but flinch at his cold tone and the anger that seems to have consumed the kind, smart person he fell in love with entirely. “You know my job depends on being able to sell this object! You know that I can hardly afford my own place anymore! Why are you fucking this up for me again and again!?”

Mats can feel his not-so-physical body growing smaller and smaller, and each of Bene’s words hurt like a stabbing needle.

“Benni …” he starts, but the blond doesn’t let him get a word in. He stopped staying for tea, too, around two visits ago, and even before, the mood between them had been icy and they’d hardly exchanged a single sentence.

“Don’t you ‘Benni’ me! Not when you continue to make everything worse for me with every second of your pathetic, undead life!”

“I did it because I don’t want to lose you!”

Mats just blurts it out, as if the truth would kill him if he tried to keep it a secret from Bene any longer. Bene’s anger on the other hand deflates like a balloon in a matter of seconds.

“You – what?”

Mats fiddles with his sweater. It’s the same one he wore when they first met, of course it is. He doesn’t exactly have a big wardrobe to choose from; in fact he’s never even tried taking his clothes off in the past three and a half years.

“If you sell the house, I won’t ever see you again,” he mumbles. “And god, I can’t, I don’t …”

He fixes his eyes on his translucent feet, wedged into the same pair of socks that he wore the night he died, doesn’t dare to glance up again, feeling more insecure than he ever has.

He startles when suddenly, he feels his cheek sting. He lifts his head, and Bene stands there, looking just as flabbergasted as he feels, his hand still raised from where he just slapped Mats’ cheek.

“Did you just-” – “I’msosorry-”

They start speaking just at the same moment before stopping and just wordlessly staring at each other. Mats slowly lifts his hand, rubbing his cheek. It tingles a bit, as if a dozen fire ants were crawling under his skin.

“You slapped me.”

Bene chuckles hysterically. “I’m so sorry!”

“No, Bene. You touched me. You-” he extends his hand, and his dead heart flutters as he closes his fingers around Bene’s wrist.

“You can touch me,” he whispers with wide-eyed wonder. He lets out an incredulous cackles. “God, you can touch me.” He feels his eyes water. “I love you so fucking much.”

Bene blinks at him, as if it’s all a bit too much for him. But then, he surges forward, then, Mats, for the first time in what feels like forever, feels lips against his own.

 

They end up in the bed upstairs. Mats has shed his sweater and it looks strangely material next to Bene’ denim jacket. Bene’s skin is warm under his fingertips as he strokes over it again and again, still marvelling at their little, private miracle.

Had he still been human, they would have probably ended up having sex the moment they’ve hit the soft sheets of the bed that Bene had installed there a few weeks ago for showroom purposes, but for now, cuddling is more than enough. Enough to make Mats feel like he just might burst from happiness every second.

“You’re an idiot, Mats Julian Hummels,” Bene says as he nuzzles right under his chin. “You could have just told me, you know. Instead of scaring all my customers away.”

Mats huffs.

“And what would that have helped? You still need to sell it, don’t you?”

And to that, Benedikt doesn’t have an answer.

 

It’s weird, having a boyfriend. Actually, despite identifying as proudly pansexual, Bene is Mats’ first one, and with every day, he wishes he could have met him when he was still alive. 

By now, Bene spends most nights at the house, just praying that his boss won’t notice that he made a copy of the key. He’s bringing over people interested in buying it less often, and when he does, his heart doesn’t seem into it anymore. Whenever he does, he only smiles tiredly when Mats more pushes over some furniture as soon as the potential buyers start complaining just a bit too much.

Still, at the same time, both of them know that this won’t be forever.

“Have you sold it yet?” Mats asks one day when Bene comes in on his own with an air of dissatisfaction surrounding him, and greets him with a kiss on the lips.

Bene sighs. “Obviously not, idiot. It was already an okay property at best. And now that rumors have spread that it’s haunted again … Thanks for that, honestly.”

Mats pulls a face as he slings an arm around his shoulder, nosing at Bene’s hair.

An hour later they lay upstairs in the bed, naked this time, and Mats’ shimmering fingers trace over Bene’s chest as his head rests on his shoulder.

“I don’t wanna break up with you. But I also know I keep holding you back. And in the end,” he connects one set of freckles with another, “is it really worth it? I’m dead, Bene. You’re funny, handsome, charming. You could have anyone, really. I’m only holding you back.”

Bene turns his head and places a soft kiss on his forehead. His touch feels different than being touched when he was alive had felt. Like a shadow of an actual touch, but at the same time warmer, making his skin tingle.

“But what if I don’t want anyone else.”

The fact it’s not a question makes Mats’ mind soar. And then, Bene suddenly sits up, looking down at him, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Hold up, I’ve got an idea.”

 

He leaves that night still, and Mats spends the rest of it tickling little Julian Kleinhans’ toes as he sleeps and slamming his parents’ open windows shut.

The next morning, as he is still lounging on the couch in the shadows, trying to relax his brain, as he sees Bene’s car pulling up outside.

He looks almost a bit uncertain as he gets out, opening the back door to reveal yet another couple. They’re two guys, one of them about Bene’s height, lanky with a wide smile and messy curls, the other taller, broader, with a more serious look but soft cheeks that make him look gentle. Their hands are clasped and from the way the shorter one is animatedly talking to Bene, Mats can tell that these aren’t just the regular people interested in the house. They’re Bene’s friends.

Bene chuckles as he pushes open the door. “Well guys, this is it.”

The lanky guy whistles as Mats stands in the living room, observing them from the shadows.

“Pretty nice place, actually, don’t think you think, Manu?” His taller partner – husband, judging by the matching bands adorning their hands – hums as a smile tugs at his lips.

“So.” The lanky one leans forward, winking at Bene. “Where is that ghost boyfriend of yours hiding out? Or did you actually only make him up to get us to buy the house.”

Bene softly shakes his head and points at where Mats is standing rooted on the spot – he didn’t expect that Benedikt would tell anyone about him. Then again, if he had actual, alive friends that weren’t four-legged felines, he would have probably wanted to talk about Bene, too.

“He’s standing over there,” Bene says, and the tall guy flinches.

Mats blinks. “Can you see me?” he asks, and when no one answers, Bene shakes his head.

“I don’t think they can hear you, Mats.”

The tall guy gnaws at his bottom lip. “He’s actually there? I mean, I can see a shape, but …”

His husband squints his eyes. “Oh!” he exclaims, “now I can see it too! It’s coming toward us!”

Mats puts an arm around Bene’s waist and leans down to kiss him, and the couple, clearly weirded out by it, observe them curiously as their friend places a kiss on invisible lips.

“I can’t believe you can kinda see him,” Bene chuckles as he continues to show them around the house. Mats trails a few steps behind them, and every few minutes, either of the guys throws a look over their shoulder, searching for his barely-there silhouette. The tall guy – Manu – even smiles at one point when he catches Mats’ eyes. Mats timidly smiles back, even if he’s sure that he can’t really see it.

In the end, the lanky one turns to Bene with a sigh. 

“It’s a nice place, and we’d love to help you, but it’s just a bit too far out of our budget. We just spent a bunch of money on the wedding and …” he trails off.

The tall guy nods slowly, and Bene’s face falls. 

“We’re really sorry, Bene.”

When they leave, Mats feels ready to cry.

 

They just cling each other for almost half an hour that night, not ready to let go of each other. For once, not even Mats says much, and they just relished in each other’s presence, knowing that they might not have it for much longer.

After that, Benedikt doesn’t come to see him for over a week. The days are getting shorter again, and Mats has almost lost hope. After six days, he feels like he’d rather die again than to be left hanging in this state of unknowing any longer. Not even the cat comes to see him, and in dark hours at night he wonders if it got run over by a car or poisoned by some spoiled food. He doesn’t have a phone, so he has no way to contact Bene; heck, he doesn’t even know where he lives, and even if he did – he can’t get away from the house, not matter how hard he tries. 

It’s as if there’s an invisible barrier that keeps him chained to this unlikely prison, and for the first time, Mats truly feels alone.

By the eighth day, he can feel his body deteriorating, his limbs looking more translucent and paler than ever, almost all colour drained. He looks at himself in the mirror and for the first time he thinks he actually looks like he’d imagine a ghost to look. There’s sadness in his eyes and an unsettling quality to his features, his cheeks seem more hollow and every few seconds, his appearance flickers like a dying light bulb.

He startles when suddenly, something rubs against his legs.

The cat meows up at him. It appears to have lost one eye, but it still purrs when he leans down to pet it – and he’s surprised to find that he’s actually able to now. The fur feels stubbly underneath his fingertips, and Mats lets out a little giggle when it licks over his hand with a tongue as rough as sandpaper. A hand that somehow looks more like a hand than it did mere minutes ago.

It’s not Bene, but it’s something.

But then, just as he’s picked it up and for the first determined that it’s a tomcat, he hears the front door opening.

He almost drops the cat. The cat claws at his arm – and an upside of being dead; it doesn’t hurt at all – and Mats grips him so tightly the pet might be choking. But in that moment, he almost doesn’t care.

Bene.

He’s standing there, illuminated by the rays of sun behind him, looking more disheveled than Mats has ever seen him, but smiling incredibly wide.

He doesn’t say anything, and Mats just stares at him as if he were a ghost.

“Bene?” He hates how his voice trembles.

“We’re buying it.” Bene laughs, and it a sound so freeing, so delighted, that Mats can’t help but smile even if he has no idea what’s going on.

“We’re buying the house!” Bene clarifies as he comes up to wrap his arms around him, almost squashing the cat between their bodies in the process (who lets out a dignified shriek and wiggles out of Mats’ arms in response, dropping on the floor but of course landing on all fours), peppering kisses all over Mats’ cheeks.

“Thomas, Manu and I – we’re splitting the cost and I guess we’ll try to renovate it and make it into two apartments. I’ve spent the last week getting the deal done.”

“Oh.”

Mats doesn’t really know what to say. But there’s this warmth spreading from his stomach, tingling all over, making him feel more solid, more present than he has in years.

And holding Benedikt close with all he’s got, looking out through the open door on the sleepy street, he knows that for once, he’s exactly where he wants to be.

 

**Author's Note:**

>   * Bene is able to see Mats cause they're soulmates and that's that
>   * Cats are strange – also, they're wanderers between worlds
>   * Sorry for giving Manuel and Thomas a cameo YET AGAIN. I just can't help myself. Also, the reason they're sorta able to see Mats is cause Bene told them about him; him as a person, not him as a ghost. With time, they will be able to fully see him
>   * Bene will always been the only one able to touch him, tho (well, apart from the cat)
>   * We don't think about what will happen when Bene ages and Mats doesn't, we just don't
>   * Thanks for reading!
> 

> 
> Please leave kudos and maybe a comment if you liked it! | [tumblr](http://manuelmueller.tumblr.com/)


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